


One in a Million

by BoundHopes (Hadrian_Pendragons)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Amputation, Mentioned Dissociation, Self-Worth Issues, mentioned self-harm, post sdr2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadrian_Pendragons/pseuds/BoundHopes
Summary: Hajime and Nagito are far from okay. That doesn’t mean they’ll leave one another behind.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 5
Kudos: 145





	One in a Million

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the KomaHina exchange on tumblr! I hope you all enjoy!

Hajime stepped into Nagito’s cottage. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs, the kind of tiredness that only came with knowing several hyperactive former-terrorists in an enclosed setting. He’d been working all day, preparing to wake up the remainder of their group—some had been easier to wake up than others, and not everyone was being released from the pods at once. He didn’t think any of them could deal with multiple alarmed, traumatized, possibly insane classmates at once. So, one at a time it was.

He paused beside the lump on the bed, where Nagito was hiding underneath a mass of blankets, quiet and still and quite possibly dead, if not for the breathing Kamukura’s observation skills picked up for him.

Not a pattern that accompanied sleep… but not one that acknowledged his presence either.

A month ago, Nagito had woken up. He’d emerged from the pod with a fractured smile, looked at his arm—no,  _ her  _ arm, and it terrified and nauseated him to see his classmates wake up only to find a part of themselves missing and replaced by  _ her,  _ as if she held some twisted claim on their very being _ — _ and asked if someone could break it for him.

None of them went that far, and thankfully neither did Nagito, but the arm itself barely functioned. It didn’t move properly, didn’t react like Nagito wanted, though it was again only Hajime’s red eye that picked up on the odd tells that portrayed Nagito’s frustration. The next person they woke was Mikan, and despite the way she flipped between episodes of silent dissociation and a fake, bubbly smile, she put herself to work managing their…ailments. Mikan was the ultimate nurse, but she might as well have been their doctor, with how much she pushed herself to learn and create for their sakes.

She, with Hajime and Kamukura’s help, had managed to remove the arm. Souda had taken one look at them and gone missing, though Sonia said he was locked up in one of the mechanic labs on the other islands. Hajime had just wondered when Souda had learned how to boat.

It had been several weeks since. Nagito was still arm-less and hiding in his dark cottage, head buried under the blanket except for a tuft of his wild, white hair. Hajime sighed and pulled up the desk chair. He sat backwards, crossed his arms over the back, and leveled the lump under the blanket with a mismatched stare.

“Mikan wants you back at the clinic for a check-in and more therapy.”

No answer. He’d come to expect this. Mikan had been coming here herself to make sure he was healing properly and that the wound would be fit enough for a prosthetic… whenever they got to that point. Hajime thought it would take a while.

“Sonia says Souda’s working on something that might help.”

She hadn’t told them any details, probably because Souda hadn’t told  _ her  _ any—which he found bizarre. He accepted it, nonetheless. Ever since waking up, they’d all been different. Less innocent. Dulled, like mud in water. He wished, sometimes, he was the kind of person that could clear that water with but a few words and his will. But life was harsher than that.

“You should come eat with us today.”

Nagito had been quieter. A lot less hard to read, when his expressions were paper-thin and entirely too broken underneath, even if he still held onto the part of him that was perfectly-fine-if-totally-insane. Nagito also insisted that he stay away from everyone else. He didn’t say why, but Hajime remembered the comments in the simulation. He remembered  _ exactly  _ what Nagito thought of himself.

He remembered the despair disease. Nagito’s feverish demands for him to leave. Hajime still kicked himself for not realizing exactly what he’d meant.

He remembered  _ Nagito’s body,  _ and the trial that followed, and the overwhelming despair toward  _ how someone could do that to themselves. _

“Nagito—”

“I can’t do that, Hinata-kun.”

It was a soft, breathy, lighthearted tone. Nagito was the only one that still used last names among them. Hajime hated it.

“Can’t eat? Or can’t look at me?”

“Hmm… I think you might be too much for my eyes.”

Translation: I’m not worth enough to even allow myself to look at you.

Hajime clenched his hands around his elbows and bit his tongue to stop the biting reply that immediately wanted to slip off of his tongue.

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Am I?”

“You’re not alone here, Nagito.”

Silence once more. Hajime had enough. He stood from the chair and returned it to its place, then sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his hand on Nagito’s head and threaded his fingers through the soft, tangled hair he could get to. He tried to be careful, but Nagito still tensed at the touch.

“Stop that.”

“You’re being really stupid, you know that?”

“Why stay, then? Surely, you have someone you’d rather give your attention to.”

“What makes you think you know what goes on in my head?”

“Stop it.”

“You really think I don’t want to be here?”

_ “Shut up.” _

Hajime grit his teeth, “Nagito, you know why I’m here.”

He jerked his hand away the moment Nagito shifted. The white-haired man sat up quickly, harshly, unworried about the bandages covering one side of his body, and reached out. Hajime didn’t fight it when Nagito grabbed him by the shirt with his single hand and almost,  _ almost  _ glared at him.

“Why?” He asked, voice shaky and alarmed and  _ afraid.  _ Hajime hated how much hurt he saw in Nagito’s eyes.

Nagito didn’t look away, though, and that meant a lot to Hajime. Both because he could barely look at his own reflection, at his two-colored eyes, without feeling nauseous, and because it meant Nagito was actually  _ listening. _

“I don’t give a damn about hope or despair, Nagito.” Hajime said, low and steady, letting the words he’s really wanted to say sink in. “None of that means anything to me. I care about people. I care about  _ you.  _ And I’m not going anywhere just because you think I should.”

Nagito’s face blanks. It’s almost similar to that unreadable expression. But there’s a glow in his eyes.

“How can you say that?”

Translation: You’re wrong about me.  _ About us. _

“Nagito,” Hajime reached up and placed his hands over Nagito’s. It was trembling and cold. Nagito was always cold. “We’ve all been through hell. We’ve all come back. We’re not going anywhere.  _ I’m  _ not going anywhere.” He tugged on Nagito’s hand, and Nagito let go without a fight. “You’re not an exception to that,  _ ever _ . Not while I’m around.”

Nagito closed his eyes and tilted forward. Hajime wrapped an arm around his side and let that mess of hair flop over his shoulder, Nagito burying his face into Hajime’s shirt.

“I can’t believe that.”

“I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“I’m not convinced.”

_ “Hajime.” _

Hajime closed his mouth with a click.

Nagito took a shuddering breath.

“I can’t do this,” he says. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to not expect everyone to die. Everything to end. I don’t even know how long I have left.” He laughed. It was more of a wheeze. “I don’t know how to believe you.”

Hinata buried his face into Nagito’s hair. He closed his eyes and sighed. He was getting used to being tired. “I’ll just have to show you, then. We can do it together. You can learn.”

Nagito doesn’t speak again. Hinata just keeps him close, arms wrapped around his waist, trying to give him as much of his body heat as possible, because he really hated how cold Nagito always felt.

Nagito doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t kick him out or start cursing at him, either.

It’s a step. There were a million more to go, but Hinata was willing to crawl beside him if it meant Nagito could eventually stand with him.


End file.
